


In a Tin Box

by PhoenixFalls



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 'one' just sounded ridiculous, Gen, Midnight Epiphanies, Natasha Feels, Note: This is not in Second Person, Sharing a Bed, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/pseuds/PhoenixFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha and Pepper get stranded in upstate New York by a freak October blizzard. Their motel room has only one bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Tin Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).



So it turned out, even flying with the CEO of Stark Industries on a Stark Industries private plane didn’t make you immune to weather delays.

When you were rerouted to and then grounded at a tiny airport in upstate New York along with a couple dozen other private planes due to a freak October blizzard, it apparently didn’t even get you a motel room with two beds.

Snow swirled at her back as Natasha clumped into to the room laden with food. Pepper was on her conference call on the bed, feet bare and legs crossed beneath her, still dressed in her pantsuit, her files and laptop spread out on top of the bedspread. Their eyes met for a moment and Pepper mouthed “Thank you” then went back to her conversation.

They both worked through dinner - Pepper stealing bites of her cobb salad while the people on the other end of the line were speaking, fork in her left hand because she was taking notes with her right; Natasha scarfing down a burger and fries as she desultorily typed up clarifications to her most recent after action report.

The night wore on. Natasha finished her report and started methodically breaking down her weapons for cleaning and sharpening. Pepper finally got off the phone and tidied her work, then changed into workout gear and went through a modified yoga routine on the floor while watching CNBC. They took turns in the shower and at the sink – Natasha watched Pepper’s facial cleansing routine, which involved five different jars and bottles, with interest – and then they were left with nothing but each other, two women who were friendly but not friends, trapped in a 12 by 20 foot motel room by the steadily falling snow.

“I’ll take the side by the door.”

Pepper smiled wryly. “Of course you will.”

They settled into the bed, Pepper setting her phone’s alarm and placing it within reach on the bedside table, Natasha checking again that both the gun she left in plain sight and the one she had hidden holstered behind the mattress were reachable with either hand in one smooth motion. Pepper had sighed at the precautions but hadn’t otherwise objected, so Natasha did what she needed to do without further explanation.

“I usually fall asleep with the television on. Is that going to bother you?”

Natasha thought for a moment, weighing the benefit of the added light against the cover the noise would provide and bearing in mind the wild unlikelihood that the person who had been sending Pepper death threats was stranded in the same town they were. “That’s fine.”

Pepper fell asleep quickly, her breathing evening out and picking up just the faintest snore, barely audible over the voices of the late-night anchors on Sports Center. Natasha could have forced herself to fall asleep as well, but when a little tiredness the next day wouldn’t be particularly dangerous she preferred not to use the techniques her Red Room handlers had taught her. Instead she lay on her side facing the door, watching the glow of the television play out over the cheap table set.

Natasha was no stranger to sharing a room. The Red Room kept them in dorms; she did end up fucking a small minority of her marks; SHIELD missions frequently involved cramped quarters; this was not even her first time acting as a bodyguard. Even sharing a bed was not particularly unusual for her in those situations, and this bed was legitimately king-sized, leaving plenty of space between their bodies. Yet something about the whole scenario felt strange, and that strangeness was setting Natasha just the slightest bit off-kilter.

At some point in her musings, Natasha fell asleep. She was pulled out of her dreams momentarily when the timer turned the television off, but otherwise slept well for several hours. Right up until the moment when Pepper rolled up against Natasha’s back and slid her arm around Natasha’s waist.

Natasha’s first thought was that she would have pegged Tony as the sort of man who insisted on being the big spoon.

And that thought crystallized for Natasha why this night with Pepper seemed so odd. In all those other scenarios, when Natasha had been woken by her roommate or bedfellow’s movement, her first thought had been to find the quickest and most effective three ways of getting out of the room if necessary. Any touch in those situations carried with it either the expectation of sex or the prospect of violence.

But here, in this cheap motel room in this podunk town, the warm weight of Pepper’s arm on Natasha’s side, the trailing of Pepper’s fingers across Natasha’s stomach, carried neither of those things. Pepper had Tony and Pepper also had Extremis, and so this touch was being offered to Natasha completely freely.

Natasha closed her eyes slowly and exhaled, keeping her body still. Now that she was on her side Pepper’s snoring stopped, and the only sound to break the silence was the occasional muffled plop of snow dropping down from the eaves. Natasha could smell the vaguely nutty oil Pepper had massaged through her hair after her shower, and even though she was already starting to feel overheated Natasha didn’t push Pepper away.

Instead she focused, trying to impress every aspect of this fragile, secret moment on her memory.

Natasha let the moment stretch around her – five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen – syncing her breathing to Pepper’s. The weight of Pepper’s arm was digging into the point of her hipbone, a spreading dull almost-bruise. Natasha welcomed it.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last. Pepper shifted her head slightly and breathed in a few wisps of Natasha’s hair, and after huffing to try and escape the tickle she turned back onto her other side. The draft as Pepper shifted the blankets sent a chill down Natasha’s spine.

Natasha was awake the rest of the night, but Pepper never again left her side of the bed. Natasha refused to inch backwards in the hopes of encouraging her to. When the sliver of sky visible through the gap in the curtains began to lighten Natasha rose silently, dressed warmly, and headed out to find breakfast.

When she came back to the room Pepper was awake and again doing her yoga while watching CSPAN. Their breakfast mirrored their dinner from the night before, Pepper nibbling an egg white omelet around her conversation with a Stark Industries board member on the bed while Natasha again took over the table with her laptop and stuffed French toast. By the time Pepper was finished with that call Natasha had confirmed that the airports had reopened and had called their pilot to let him know they’d be taking off in an hour.

They packed quickly and in silence, then Natasha re-donned her coat and scarf to precede Pepper through the door. But just as she reached for the handle, Pepper’s fingers on her shoulder stopped her.

She was giving Natasha a small, grateful smile. “I wanted to say – thanks. For letting me just be quiet last night. I talk a lot – like, a lot a lot, all day, to investors and shareholders and scientists and senators and Tony. So it was nice to have a couple of hours where I didn’t have to.”

Pepper was just barely touching Natasha’s shoulders, but Natasha imagined she could feel Pepper’s body heat through leather gloves and wool coat anyway. She let that warmth seep into her expression as she smiled back. “Happy to be of assistance, Ms. Potts.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a line in Anne Sexton's poem "The Touch." The full text can be found [here](http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/anne_sexton/poems/18208).


End file.
